28
The notification landed on Thorson’s desk just as his shift was finishing. Things had been fairly slow, so he had spent the evening trying to establish the location of all the laundries that took in washing for the military. Since the invasion, they had sprung up like mushrooms, as local women saw a chance to earn good money by working for themselves. He had also tried several times to reach Flóvent on the phone, eager to tell him about the pamphlet he had found among Brynhildur Hólm’s books.
A while ago Thorson had agreed to take a half shift as a favour to a colleague who wanted to go fishing with some friends at Lake Hafravatn, ten miles east of Reykjavík. Thorson had cast a line there himself from time to time. It was a beautiful place, with plenty of trout, a popular spot among his friends in the military police to relax on their days off.
The notification concerned a minesweeper currently moored in Reykjavík harbour. The man who reported the incident was part of an American delegation in town for a few days, who had gone for an evening stroll down by the docks. He had daughters that age, he said, and hated to see that kind of thing. He wanted the military police to intervene immediately. When Thorson was assigned the task he was told it might be an idea to alert the Icelandic police, particularly the Morality Committee, but if he wanted backup, he would have to wait because everyone was busy.
The phone rang on his desk just as he was dashing out of the door and he paused to grab the receiver. It was Major Graham from the Leper Hospital. Thorson explained that unfortunately he couldn’t talk right now as he had to respond to an incident.
‘Are you any closer to finding this … this Felix Lunden?’ asked Graham, as if he hadn’t heard a word Thorson had said.
‘We’re optimistic that he’ll be found soon, sir.’
‘I need to be briefed so that we can get our hands on him before the Icelandic government can muddy the waters. You got that, Thorson? If you catch him alive, that is. We could be dealing with espionage here. Any idea what he’s been up to? Have you uncovered anything about the man who was found in his apartment?’
‘Yes, we … He was a travelling salesman as well.’
‘You don’t say? You think it could have been personal, then? Did they know each other?’
‘Probably.’
‘What was the other guy doing there?’
‘We don’t know yet.’
‘This Lunden must be dangerous. Is he armed?’
‘Not as far as we know.’
‘You’d better assume that he is,’ said Graham.
‘I’m afraid I can’t talk … I have to respond to an incident right away. Could we discuss this later, sir?’
‘Keep us briefed about what’s going on, Thorson.’ Graham said a curt goodbye and hung up.
Thorson knew he had to act fast. He decided not to alert the Morality Committee until he had found out exactly what was going on down at the harbour. The committee had been set up in an attempt to deter underage girls from consorting with soldiers. Thorson had worked with them before but didn’t like the way they operated, spying on the girls and even sending them out of town. Somehow he doubted that a spell at a reform school in the countryside would do the girls much good.
So Thorson was alone as he drove at breakneck speed down to the harbour and along the docks to where the minesweeper was moored. He braked by the gangway, jumped out and bounded up it in a few strides. Two guards stepped out as he arrived on deck and ordered him to halt. He flashed his police ID and asked to speak to the officer in charge.
‘I’m the officer of the deck. What do you want?’ asked one of the guards suspiciously. He was older than the other one and showed no desire to cooperate.
‘Are there any other men on board besides you?’ asked Thorson.
‘Most of the crew went ashore,’ said the younger guard. ‘All the officers apart from the lieutenant, but he’s asleep and we’re under orders not to wake him.’
‘Not for any reason,’ repeated the older guard.
‘I need to inspect the ship,’ said Thorson. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’
‘Inspect the ship?’ echoed the suspicious guard. ‘What for? Inspect what?’
‘We received a notification. It’s my job to make sure there’s nothing to it. Have you two been on watch here all evening?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have you allowed any civilians on board?’
The guards exchanged a look.
‘I don’t know if we’re required to answer that,’ said the older man.
‘Are you going to let me on board?’
‘We need permission from our commanding officer,’ said the older guard stubbornly. He looked Hispanic: pitch-black hair, brown eyes. Thorson wondered if he came from New Mexico or somewhere like that. ‘Nobody comes aboard without his say-so.’
‘Then wake the lieutenant.’
‘No can do.’
‘Are there Icelandic civilians on board this ship?’ asked Thorson.
‘Not that I’m aware.’
‘They were spotted around here less than half an hour ago.’
‘Do you have papers?’
‘Papers?’
‘A warrant to come aboard. Signed and stamped.’
‘Stop fooling around,’ snapped Thorson, losing patience. ‘I don’t have time for this. Either you let me on board and we solve this business nice and quiet, no fuss, or I call out all available MPs and we launch a joint operation with the local police to search this vessel for Icelandic civilians. And who knows what else we’ll find. It’s bound to lead to arrests, maybe detentions – the kind of trouble I know we’d all like to avoid. Unless, of course, you want to explain to your captain exactly what happened and how it could have been avoided. Is that what you want? It’s your call.’
The guards’ eyes met as Thorson’s words sank in. He could tell that they were no longer so sure of themselves. His speech seemed to have had the desired effect, because after a moment the older man silently moved aside and allowed him to board.
He hurried below decks, ran along passages, banged on doors. The guards hadn’t lied when they said most of the crew had gone ashore: the minesweeper was like a ghost ship. Unfamiliar with the layout of naval vessels, Thorson opened all the doors he encountered, revealing one compartment after another; he barged into the mess room where a lone crew member sat peeling potatoes, burst into the WC, then jumped down a companionway to the deck below, then down to the level below that, until he was deep in the bowels of the ship, next to the engine room, and the smells of oil, metal, glycerine and sweat were overpowering. He opened one more door and there at last were the two girls that the man from the American delegation had spotted boarding the ship in the company of some sailors.
The girls couldn’t have been more than fifteen, the man had said, just kids. He had been right about that, Thorson thought. The three men with them were playing cards in a stinking haze of cigarette smoke. They were visibly drunk and there was more alcohol and tobacco on the table. One girl was sitting half-naked in the arms of a sailor. The other lay stretched out on a bunk, smoking a cigarette, her legs bare under her thin dress. Two of the men were stripped to the waist, the third was in his undershirt. They were all different ages; the oldest looked to be about fifty.
‘Who the hell are you?’ asked the sailor who was fondling the girl. He jumped to his feet and almost dropped her on the floor. His thick fingers were black with grease.
Engineers, thought Thorson.
‘I don’t want any trouble,’ he said.
‘Trouble? What trouble? Who’s making trouble?’
The other two crew members gaped at Thorson, then put down their cards and got to their feet, startled by the disturbance.
‘The girls need to come with me,’ said Thorson.
‘Says who?’
Thorson produced his military police ID, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on board this ship, far from home. The engineer knocked it out of his hand without even looking
at it. Thorson ordered the girls to come with him immediately. They seemed surprised to hear a soldier speaking Icelandic, but, their wits dulled by drink, they didn’t budge. They were both blonde and could well have been sisters. The make-up they had used to redden their girlish lips and cheeks only made the whole situation seem sadder.
‘They ain’t going anywhere,’ said the engineer who was doing all the talking.
‘Girls!’ shouted Thorson, regretting now that he hadn’t called for backup. ‘Come with me. This minute!’
They flinched and prepared to obey him, but by now the engineer had had enough. He charged at Thorson, sending him stumbling out into the narrow passage. The man tried to punch him in the face, but Thorson dodged the blow and it connected with his shoulder instead, throwing him against the wall. As he backed away down the passage, the engineer grabbed a heavy wrench and came after him. Thorson saw his buddies emerge from the berths. The girls tried to slip past them, but only one of them got through. She turned back and shouted at her friend to hurry, but the sailor wouldn’t let her go.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ said the engineer who was following Thorson, brandishing the wrench at him. ‘Ain’t you going to come talk to us?’
‘Let the girls go, then we can talk,’ said Thorson.
He had reached the companionway and was just debating whether to leave the girls behind and run for help, when he heard footsteps overhead and the older guard from the deck started climbing down towards him, stopping halfway down the ladder.
‘Don’t do anything stupid now, Rick,’ he said to the engineer who was poised to beat Thorson to a pulp. ‘Leave them alone.’
‘Stay out of this, Cortez. It’s none of your business.’
‘Cut it out!’ barked Cortez. ‘He’s a cop, you moron. Do you want the whole goddamn police corps on your back? I told you they were too young. What did I tell you?’
The man called Rick paused and squinted up at the guard. Clearly he was damned if he was going to back down. During their stand-off, Thorson called to the two girls again. The sailor let go of the girl he was holding and they both fled towards Thorson, who ushered them up the ladder, then started climbing up behind them. Cortez and Rick were still eyeballing each other as Thorson shoved the girls ahead of him to the next deck and hurried them up another companionway until they were out in the open. Having found the gangway, they raced down it onto the dock.
29
One of the girls was a lot tougher than the other and made it plain that she had no intention of going home. She refused to give Thorson her address and complained that he had spoiled their fun. At first she claimed not to have any family at all, but in the end she admitted that she’d left home – and nothing would make her go back. The other girl wasn’t nearly so angry and seemed, if anything, grateful to him for rescuing them from the bowels of the ship. She lived with her father and two brothers near Camp Tripoli and wouldn’t mind if Thorson gave her a lift home, so long as he let her out at a safe distance, because her father hated the soldiers and had repeatedly forbidden her to fraternise with them. Thorson didn’t ask why she had defied her father. No doubt she had her reasons, and anyway he was tired. He said nothing more about it but did as she asked and let her out by Vatnsmýri, an expanse of marshland near the airfield, once she had wiped most of the make-up off her face and promised Thorson that she would never go on board a naval vessel again, and that she would stay away from soldiers.
She and her friend said goodbye to each other, and Thorson watched the girl stumbling home over the tussocky ground. He wondered if he should have handed her over to the Icelandic authorities. She had said her father would kill her if he discovered that she’d been fooling around with soldiers. He’d thrashed her for much less – her brothers too – when he’d been drinking. And he drank most of the time. Thorson told her in parting that if she ever needed his help, she shouldn’t hesitate to ask for him at the military police headquarters.
The tougher girl asked him twice if he had any cigarettes and informed him that she’d already run away from the reform school the Morality Committee had packed her off to. She knew she’d be sent back the moment they caught her, but she’d only run away again. When it dawned on her that Thorson was going to keep his promise and drop her off where she wanted to go, her hostility faded. Up to that point she had responded to all his questions with insults, but now she relented and admitted that she had an older sister she could stay with. She told Thorson the name of the street. Although she claimed to be eighteen, he guessed she was fifteen at most. He tried to tell her that although many of the sailors and soldiers in the town were good guys, there was always the odd rotten apple. Women had to be very careful, and kids like her should steer clear of them altogether.
She protested that she’d never had any trouble. All the guys she knew were good to her and gave her money, cigarettes and sweets. He tried to make her understand that though they might be nice to her and offer her booze and cigarettes, they’d want a lot more in return, and she didn’t belong in that world, not at her age, especially if it led to the depths of a warship in Reykjavík harbour.
He couldn’t tell if he’d got through to her and guessed she’d heard it all before anyway. Yet her defences seemed to be giving way a little. She was beginning to sober up now and sat silently in the front seat of the jeep, a small, vulnerable figure, her skimpy dress revealing slim white legs, dirty white knee socks slipped down around her ankles, and childish buckle shoes that didn’t even touch the floor. Without warning she broke down and started sobbing. Thorson pulled over, switched off the engine and put his arm round her, trying to comfort her as she sat hunched up next to him.
‘Don’t cry, honey,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to go back to the reform school,’ she sobbed. ‘Don’t let them send me away. They drag you off, lock you up, then send you to this horrible place in the middle of nowhere.’
‘I’m not taking you in for questioning,’ said Thorson. ‘But you have to understand that what you’re doing is incredibly dangerous. You can’t carry on like this. What about your mother, can’t you…?’
‘She … she’s … she’s happy as long as I bring her booze and cigarettes.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘My dad?’ The girl sounded puzzled.
‘Yes, is there … is he…?’
‘Mum thinks my dad was some bloke from the Westman Islands.’
‘You don’t know who he is?’
‘No.’
‘How did you meet those men, those sailors you were with? I hope you’re not getting … too familiar with them.’
‘In town. At the bars. At Ramóna and White Star. Anywhere, really. I haven’t done anything with them.’
‘Well, keep it that way,’ said Thorson.
‘I know what they’re after. Do you really think I haven’t met their type before? There’s a man in our street who pays me to watch him while he … you know. All I have to do is watch –’
‘For Christ’s sake,’ Thorson exclaimed. ‘You should stay away from men like him. They can be dangerous and you shouldn’t … shouldn’t be doing that…’
‘My sister’s … she’s bagged herself a Tommy. She’s engaged. He’s from London and she’s going back with him after the war – going to live there, and become English.’
She made it sound as if her sister had hit the jackpot.
‘So what are you saying?’ asked Thorson. ‘Are you hoping to follow her lead?’
‘She says it’s much better to find yourself a soldier than some Icelandic bloke. She went crazy when they first arrived … the Tommies. Was out partying with her girlfriends every night. They’re always having a good time. One of them’s married and all, but that doesn’t stop her.’
‘No,’ said Thorson, ‘I bet it doesn’t.’
Now that the girl had recovered, he started the engine again and continued on towards her sister’s house. It was getting late and when he stopped the je
ep they could hear the sound of car horns and shouting from the centre of town. The girl didn’t say as much but Thorson sensed that she was grateful, though he didn’t know whether it was for rescuing her from the minesweeper or for keeping the Morality Committee out of it. Both, maybe.
Her sister turned out to be a young woman of twenty-five, who was busy getting ready for a night out and was apparently livid with her younger sister for something that had happened earlier that day. She looked Thorson up and down as he stood at the door in his uniform, but when he explained, in Icelandic, that he was a West Icelander, a light seemed to go out. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, indifferently. He told her to take better care of her little sister in future.
‘Better care?’ she said, searching for a cigarette, looking a little the worse for wear. She found a packet and a lighter of a type Thorson knew was popular among the soldiers. Sucked the smoke deep into her lungs. ‘What’s she done now? I can’t control her. She’s completely off the rails.’
‘She’s done nothing wrong,’ said Thorson. ‘But she was in bad company.’
‘The committee’s picked her up twice already,’ said the sister. ‘They packed her off to the countryside. Like that did any good.’
‘I’m not going back,’ said the younger girl.
‘Oh, why don’t you shut up?’ said her big sister, exhaling smoke. ‘Was there anything else?’ she asked Thorson irritably.
‘No. Just take better care of her. She’s a good kid.’
‘Uh-huh,’ said the sister and shut the door in his face.
Thorson shook his head, having second thoughts now about whether he had done the right thing by bringing the girl here. As he turned to leave, he heard the woman tearing a strip off her kid sister.
‘What the hell were you up to? Where have you been?’
The Shadow Killer Page 15
